


Summer Nights

by AmyViolet



Series: Boys of Summer [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, M/M, Oral Sex, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:58:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyViolet/pseuds/AmyViolet
Summary: Sam is dating Mercedes, and Blaine is dating Kurt, but neither relationship is totally satisfying. So Sam and Blaine end up hanging out and consoling each other. Some Samcedes and some Klaine, but mostly Blam.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't new; in fact, it was the first fanfic I ever wrote. Just reposting from FFN.

The polyester pizza-place uniform was the worst, especially in this heat. Sam peeled it off as soon as he left work and stuffed it into his backpack. His damp, white t-shirt clung to his chest, but at least there was a bit of a breeze starting. Not that carrying a hot pizza box helped matters.

It sucked that his car had died. Not just because he now had to walk ten block to his girlfriend's house, but because he couldn't do deliveries without the car. At least Joe, his boss, had let him stay on in the kitchen, but you don't make tips working in the kitchen. And he couldn't afford to get his car fixed without the tip money.

Well, forget that. He was on his way over to surprise Mercedes, and he was determined they'd have a nice evening.

Mercedes was surprised all right when she opened the door and saw him. She gave him an affectionate hug and a quick kiss. Well, the kiss was affectionate too, he guessed, just not _too_ affectionate. Mercedes was always careful not to let things go to far.

"Sam! What are you doing here? Wow, you're sweating."

"Some girls like that, I'm told."

She looked at his chest and gently touched his warm cheek. "It's not a bad look for you," she said. "Seriously, though, come inside where it's cool. And, uh, what brings you by? I thought you were working."

"How 'bout I take you out for pizza? Or rather, in for pizza?" Sam held up the extra-large box he'd been carrying and stepped inside. Man, that air conditioning was welcome.

"You're not supposed to spend money on me, Sam."

He wished she wouldn't keep reminding him how broke he was—not just him, but his whole family. It was cool that she didn't care, but still.

"I didn't," he said. "So, it was totally dead tonight. I guess no one's in the mood for pizza when it's so hot out. Anyway, this 'veggie delight' was practically the only order we got, but the people who ordered it called back to cancel while it was in the oven. Joe told me I may as well take it and go home."

Mercedes kissed his cheek again. Jesus, you'd think that after over a month of secret dating, he wouldn't still get goose bumps every single time she touched him. Or maybe it was the air conditioning? No, it was definitely the kiss.

Sam followed her into the kitchen. She looked amazing in a sleeveless yellow sundress that rode up when she reached for a couple plates on a high cupboard shelf. She paused for a minute before she turned around. "Do you think you should maybe take it home for Stacy and Stevie instead?"

"Come on, Mercedes. I promise they're not starving to death, okay? This is the only way I can treat you to dinner. Please just let me." Mercedes still hesitated. "I'll take them the leftovers, okay? I swear." He flashed that grin he knew she couldn't resist.

"All right." She put two slices on a plate for him and one on a plate for herself.

He wished she would take more than that. He didn't know if she was only taking one because she wanted to save most of it for his family or because of...that other reason that she never ate much around him. He thought he made it clear how much he was into her exactly the way she was, but she still seemed uncomfortable. For some reason he just couldn't come out and say anything about it though. And so he just watched while she put the rest of the pizza into plastic containers, which she then put in the fridge.

Mercedes put a movie in, and they sat on the family room floor and ate. They didn't talk much. Mercedes seemed really into the movie; Sam didn't even notice what was on. He had just realized they had the house to themselves. Mercedes's parents had never, ever left her alone with Sam in the house. But, tonight, no one had been expecting him to stop by. So Sam gulped down his pizza as fast as he could so they could take advantage of the situation.

Mercedes wasn't in any hurry, though. What the hell was she doing, trying to savor it or something? It was a _vegetable_ pizza for god's sake. And it wasn't exactly fresh out of the oven anymore.

Sam scooted closer while she ate. He was a little chilly now from the air conditioning on his sweaty arms and chest—but that wasn't the only reason, of course.

God, Mercedes still wasn't done with her one tiny slice. Sam got tired of waiting for her to finish. He leaned even closer and kissed her cheek. Then again, and again...moving closer to her ear each time.

Mercedes's had this weird thing with her ears. She made the sexiest little moan whenever he touched them, especially with his mouth. God, he loved it when she moaned.

Sam reached her ear and flicked his tongue against it. He whispered, "How long are your parents going to be gone?"

"All night," she said. "But Sam, we can't..." She closed her eyes as she trailed off. Sam chewed gently on her earlobe. He ran his tongue all around and inside her ear. It was weird, but he had actually started to be turned on by the taste of earwax, even though he realized it was entirely due to her reaction. Mercedes's moaning made him fucking crazy. She leaned her back against the couch, and he felt her whole body relax. Her pizza slice fell to the floor, and Sam pushed it away.

Sam straddled her and kissed the other side of her neck, working up toward the other ear. Oh Jesus, his cock was touching her. Through four layers of clothes, but still. And if he could somehow get up under the skirt of her sundress it would only be three layers. _Must not start dry humping, must not start dry humping_ , he kept telling himself as he moved his mouth slowly up her neck.

Suddenly she sat up a little straighter and opened her eyes. "Oh my god. Sam, are you..."

"Mmm," he replied, not taking his mouth off her.

"Are you _hard_?" she whispered.

"I can't help it," he blurted. "You're so hot, Mercedes, and I want you so bad. I know we both agreed it's too soon, and it would be wrong to...but..."

"We can't, Sam. We can't..." But instead of finishing her thought, she took his head in her hands and brought his lips to hers. She ran her hands through his hair and he kissed her face and her ears and her neck-everywhere he could reach.

He twisted his head so he could reach her collarbone. He licked tentatively, expecting her to object. She had never let him anywhere near her chest before. But this time, all she did was take in a sharp breath and pull his hair a little.

He put his hands on her hips and started moving them slowly—so slowly so he wouldn't scare her—up toward her breasts. She let go of his hair and let her hands wander over the back of his neck, his back, his sides...they went under his shirt, oh god, they were going toward his waist band. Sam let his hand brush the side of her breast, and then she stopped and pulled away.

Shit.

"Let's trade," she said.

"What?"

"Trade places."

Sam let himself be pushed off her. He sat helplessly on the floor, back against the couch, not sure what was going on.

And then she straddled him.

Oh, sweet lord. If it weren't for his stupid polyester pants and his boxers and her panties, he'd be fucking her. Or maybe she'd be fucking him-he was pretty much pinned, and she was doing all the moving.

Mercedes rocked back and forth on his cock while she kissed and groped him wildly. Sam reached around, under the skirt, and grabbed her ass. Over the panties. He didn't want to press his luck. He urged her toward him every time she rocked forward on his cock, a little more insistently each time. And he tried so hard, so hard not to come yet. He didn't want to scare her out of whatever kind of trance she was in.

But the trance came to an end soon enough. Mercedes grabbed his shoulders hard and bit his neck. She let out a little yelp and then a series of whimpers as she rubbed herself against him wildly—all the while sucking and biting his neck.

Finally she slowed down and then stopped. She removed her teeth from his neck and looked at him, shaken. Her face was glistening with perspiration.

"Oh my god. I just...I think I just..."

Sam leaned forward to kiss her again, but she pulled back and got off his lap.

"It's okay, Mercedes. It felt good, didn't it? There's nothing wrong with it." He took her hand.

She pulled it away and touched the hickey on his neck. Sam winced. "Look what I did to you!"

"No, it's fine. It's totally fine."

"It's not _fine_ , Sam." She showed him his own blood on her finger. "This isn't fine. I told you we shouldn't." She stood up.

Sam jumped up and took both her hands. What the hell was she doing? She wasn't just going to leave him like this, was she? "No, no, no. It doesn't hurt at all. Please, Mercedes..." He leaned in for a kiss, but she pulled back.

"I can't believe we did that. Oh my god, my parents will freak if they see you here and if they see _that_ on your neck."

"You said they'd be gone all night."

"But what if they aren't? Oh my god, Sam. You have to go. I _told_ you we shouldn't."

"But...But I'm not the one who..."

"Sam! You have to leave _now_!"

"Mercedes, come on. Please..."

She almost literally pushed him out the door. She didn't even give him a chance to grab his backpack or the leftovers she was so concerned about him taking home with him.

"Sam?"

"Oh. Hey, Finn." Sam let himself fall from the monkey bars he'd been doing chin-ups on.

"What are you doing, man? Is this how you spend your Friday nights in the summer?"

"Not always." No way was he going to try to explain to Finn that he had nowhere he could jerk off, what with his whole family in one motel room, so he was trying to exhaust himself to the point of not being able to jerk off anyway.

"It's fucking hot out here, man. You're sweating like a...you know, like a...what kind of animal sweats a lot?"

Sam didn't answer. He resumed his chin-ups.

"Seriously, dude. Why don't you take a break and come over to my place? It's not like you're going to beat me out for quarterback in the fall anyway." He smiled to show he was just joking around.

Sam didn't laugh.

"Come on, dude. Really. Kurt and his boyfriend Blaine and I are hanging out. I need another straight dude."

Still no response.

"We're gonna get wasted. I have a bottle of vodka in my backpack."

Getting drunk sounded like an awesome solution to his problem. The chin-ups weren't working. "What the hell," Sam said, dropping.

Sam walked down the basement stairs and was about to open the door to the rec room when Finn stopped him. "Dude. Never, ever walk in on those two without making a lot of noise first. I learned the hard way." He raised his voice and announced, "Well, here we are, Sam! I'll just open the door and then you can say hello to Kurt and Blaine!" He waited several seconds before actually opening the door.

They were sitting next to each other on the couch when Sam walked in, just holding hands. But their hair was messed up, and Blaine's shirt was a little twisted. And they were both flushed and sweating. True, the place wasn't air conditioned. But they were in the basement, and there were fans.

"Sam!" Kurt said brightly. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Blaine closed his eyes and dropped his head on the back of the couch. Sam recognized the look on his face—just like his probably looked when Mercedes freaked out on him.

"Uh, I ran into Finn in the park," Sam said. Kurt kept looking at him expectantly. "Finn said there was vodka."

"You got it?" Blaine asked.

Finn pulled the bottle from his backpack and held it up.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Blaine said.

Kurt hopped up. "I'll get the ice." He looked at Sam and gasped. "My god, what happened to your neck?"

Sam touched the spot where Mercedes had bitten him and winced. It still hurt like a motherfucker, but at least it wasn't bleeding any more. "I, uh...It's a bee sting."

"It doesn't look like a bee sting," Kurt said.

Finn said, "Dude, how did I not even notice that?"

Sam shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Kurt said. "We've got to get you cleaned up..."

Blaine stood up. "I'll help Sam," he said. Kurt was visibly relieved. Blood probably wasn't his thing. "Go ahead and get the ice."

"Right!" Kurt ran up the stairs.

"I'll find something to mix the vodka with," Finn said, following Kurt.

Blaine gave Sam an awkward smile. "There's a bathroom through here," he said, and he led the way.

"This is a pretty bad bee sting," he observed as he gently patted Sam's neck with a cool, wet towel.

"Yeah. Thanks."

Blaine finished cleaning off the blood in silence. Then he blew on Sam's neck.

What the hell? Not that is wasn't kind of nice, but... "Dude, what are you doing?"

Blaine blushed, just a little. "Sorry. I just want your skin to be dry before I put the Neosporin on it."

He fanned Sam's neck for a minute with one of Kurt's dad's car magazines, and then he dabbed some Neosporin on. "Sorry," he said every time Sam cringed.

"No, I'm sorry, dude."

Blaine looked at him quizzically.

"For walking in on you and Kurt. It must have been...frustrating."

Blaine sighed. He muttered something, and Sam wasn't sure, but it sounded like, "I'm getting used to it."

The drinks were kind of gross. Finn had mixed together god knows what into a weird kind of punch. A couple kinds of juice, some Kool-Aid...was that iced tea he tasted? The only way to choke it down was fast.

So that's how they drank it. The ice slowed them down too much, so they left it melting in the bowl Kurt had brought down. They skipped right over the buzzed phase, and within an hour they were very drunk.

Except for Kurt. The punch was too revolting for him to drink at any speed, so he just read a magazine while the other guys got sillier and stupider.

"Finn, your phone's ringing," Kurt informed him, glancing up from his _New Yorker_.

Finn, who was sprawled out on the couch with an arm draped over his eyes, just laughed.

"Isn't that Rachel's ring tone?" Kurt asked.

"Shit." He groped around for his phone—without sitting up or opening his eyes—until it stopped ringing. "I guess I missed her."

Kurt rolled his eyes. He put down his magazine and picked up Finn's phone from the coffee table. "Call her back," he said, holding the phone out to him. Finn didn't move, so Kurt threw it at him. It hit him in the crotch.

"Dude!"

"Sorry," Kurt said, picking up his magazine again. He didn't look very sorry.

Finn called her back. "Rachel? Sorry I missed your call a minute ago...No, I'm not avoiding you...I was in the bathroom. You told me never to talk to you when I'm in the bathroom again, remember?...Rachel, what's wrong? Are you crying?" He put his hand over the phone and told the others, "She's crying. Oh shit, I just hung up on her." He called her back again. "I am so, so sorry. I did not mean to hang up on you...You want me to come over? It's..." he looked around for a clock and didn't see one. "It's after midnight, I think...Okay, okay...Yes, I'll be right there."

"Rachel's having a crisis?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah. I have to go over there."

"I'll drive you," said Kurt, getting up.

Blaine stood up, wobbling a bit. "I guess it's time go home. Do you want a ride, Sam?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Kurt said. "You're not driving in your condition. You either, Sam."

"My car's dead," Sam said.

"Well, you're not walking home in your condition either. Call your parents and tell them you're sleeping over. And then sleep it off or something."

Kurt steadied Finn and led him up the stairs.

Blaine was really smooth with his parents. He didn't sound drunk at all when he told them he was staying over at Kurt's. Sam was impressed. He wasn't nearly as smooth.

"Mom? Hi. Did I wake Stacey up? Shit, I'm sorry. Oh, and uh, sorry I said 'shit'...No, I'm fine...I know, I'm sorry...I know you were worried, I'm really sorry...No, I haven't been drinking." He cringed a bit to hear himself lie to his mother. "Listen, I'm over at a friend's house and I'm going to stay over...No, not Mercedes...Yes, a boy's house...Yes, I promise..."

Blaine took the phone, "Hello, Mrs. Evans? This is Blaine Anderson...Yes, I'm a friend of Sam's from school...I'm sorry Sam didn't call you earlier. A group of us were playing video games at my place, and we lost track of time. My mother doesn't want to let Sam walk home so late at night, and unfortunately our car is in the shop...Yes...Yes...Thank you, Mrs. Evans." He handed the phone back to Sam.

"Thanks, Mom...Yeah, I love you too."

He set the phone down and dropped on the floor, his back against the couch where Blaine sat. "Thanks, man."

"Any time. It's one of my many talents."

They sat in silence for a while. Sam didn't really know Blaine that well and didn't know what to talk about. The only thing he could think of that they had in common was they were each in their school's glee club. And Sam didn't really feel like talking about show choir right now.

He suddenly noticed Blaine's leg next to his own arm. Why hadn't he noticed Blaine's leg before? Well, why would he notice it, after all? He hadn't been sitting right next to it before. The point was, Blaine's leg was pretty hairy. He had some kind of designer shorts on or something, and they came to a couple inches above his knees, and his legs were pretty hairy. "Dude, your legs are hairy," he said.

"Uh...thanks?"

"Sorry. I don't know why I said that. I just say things that pop into my head sometimes. Like if I've been drinking."

"It's cool."

Blaine stood up then, and it was a good thing too. Sam was just about to ask if he could touch his legs. Blaine made two more drinks, with ice this time. He handed one to Sam and then sat down next to him on the floor, on his hickey side.

Sam thought about Mercedes sitting next to him on the floor. He held the cool drink to his neck even though it didn't hurt as much, thanks to the vodka probably. It's just that it seemed like it was getting hot again.

When Sam set the drink down, Blaine touched his neck gently. "Is this Mercedes's work?"

"What? How did you...? Why would you think...?"

"Your mom seemed concerned that you might be spending the night with Mercedes."

Sam shook his head, confused. "Oh. Right. Don't tell anyone. She wants to keep it secret."

"Why?" Blaine asked.

"I don't know. You'd have to ask her that." Sam let his head fall onto Blaine's shoulder. "But don't, because then she'd know I told you."

Blaine brushed Sam's hair off his face. "She must be insane. If you were my boyfriend, I'd want everyone to know."

Sam didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. Instead he apologized again for interrupting Blaine and Kurt. Again, Blaine said it was okay.

"No, but I mean..." Sam tried to explain. "When you're just about to...I mean when you think you're finally going to get to...and then you have to stop. It sucks, man. It fucking sucks."

"Mercedes?" Blaine asked softly. Then, "Never mind. It's none of my business."

"No, but yeah. You're right. Fucking Mercedes. Or I mean, _not_ fucking Mercedes."

"Well, fuck her then. Figuratively, I mean. It's her loss." Sam leaned a little harder against Blaine, and Blaine tousled his hair. "Kurt never lets me, either."

This was actually a surprise. "Fuck him too, then. Figuratively." Sam laughed to himself. "I just thought of something. Those two should date each other and you and me could date each other."

Blaine chuckled. "Or just fuck each other."

Sam looked into Blaine's eyes, as if he were actually considering it.

"I'm just kidding," Blaine said. "Obviously."

"But I don't even mean just actual fucking," Sam said. "I mean, the last thing I want is to get her pregnant or something. Not that I'd have to worry about that with you...Wait, what the fuck am I saying? I just mean that there are other things two people can do short of actual fucking that doesn't leave one person..."

"Pent up?"

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Well, at least she's probably pent up too," Blaine said.

Sam laughed. "No, not tonight. That's the best part."

"What...?"

"Okay, you be Mercedes and I'll be me. Let's see, I was on her left." Sam crawled over Blaine to sit on his left.

"Sam, do you think this is a good idea?"

"Probably not."

"I mean, you're drunk, and I'm drunk, and this doesn't seem like something either one of us would do sober."

"No, but look." Sam paused. What the hell was he doing? Whatever, he didn't want to stop. "Look. I just want to show you what happened. I'll stop any time you want me to. At least you would probably let me go jerk off if I needed to." Blaine was just staring at him. "Anyway, it was way better for Mercedes than it was for me."

"But Kurt...And Mercedes..."

"Yeah. You're right." Sam sighed and rested his head on Blaine's shoulder again and closed his eyes. "Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

Blaine ran his fingers through Sam's hair. Sam didn't object. Blaine traced Sam's eyes and lips with his fingertip. "You're gorgeous," he whispered.

"Hmm?" Sam said.

Blaine held up a finger. "Someone's coming."

They heard footsteps descending the stairs. "Guys?" Kurt's dad said. "I'm opening the door."

Sam sat bolt upright and moved away from Blaine. Why did he feel guilty? They weren't even doing anything. Well, except the drinking. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands, trying to think what to do.

Blaine was way ahead of him though. He kicked the vodka bottle under the couch. "Let me do the talking," he whispered. "You're too drunk. Don't say anything you don't absolutely have to."

Burt Hummel opened the door slowly. He had probably learned the hard way too about busting in on Kurt and Blaine.

Blaine stood up, but casually, not like he was scared or hiding anything. More like he was just someone who respected his elders. "Hello, Mr. Hummel."

"Hi, Blaine." He looked around. "Who's this? Where are Kurt and Finn?"

"Mr. Hummel, this is Sam Evans. He's a friend of Kurt and Finn's from school."

Sam turned and waved. He didn't dare attempt to stand up.

"Sam stopped by...I hope you won't mind if I tell Mr. Hummel this, Sam." He dropped his voice a tad before continuing. "Sam had a fight with his girlfriend tonight. He ran into Finn, and Finn convinced him to just, you know, come hang out with the guys."

Mr. Hummel looked around skeptically. "Where are the rest of 'the guys?'"

"Oh, they had to run over to Rachel's for a minute. She's having some kind of crisis."

"So they both had to go?"

"She only asked for Finn, but sometimes Kurt's actually a little better with her crises than Finn is."

"Uh huh. So you guys are just going to hang out here?"

"Well, we expect them back any minute now, really."

Kurt's father chuckled. "Rachel's having a crisis and you expect them back soon? Okay. Let me know how that works out." He left, shaking his head.

As soon as the door shut, Blaine collapsed back onto the floor. He was too close to Sam; their arms were touching. In fact Blaine's hand was sort of in Sam's lap. Sam picked it up, but not to push it away, as Blaine expected. He just held it and said, "Dude, that was amazing. I never could have pulled that off."

And then he brought Blaine's hand to his lips and he kissed it. "Sorry!" he said, dropping it quickly. "Sorry! I don't know what I was thinking!"

Blaine picked up Sam's hand now and massaged the knuckles. He studied Sam's hand carefully, or maybe it was just easier to look somewhere other than into Sam's eyes when he said, "Do you still want to show me what happened with Mercedes?" He stole a quick glance at Sam's face. "Kurt can never know, by the way. Or Mercedes."

"Of course," Sam said. He tried to collect his thoughts.

"Okay, so we were sitting on the floor, just like this. Except there was no coffee table in front of us." He got up on his knees and pushed the coffee table out of the way.

"And I go like this." Sam leaned in and kissed Blaine's cheek. Blaine closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. "And like this..." Another kiss. "And like this..." Another kiss. "And I whisper in her ear-" and here Sam whispered in Blaine's ear-"What time are your parents coming home?"

Blaine closed his eyes.

"And she's like, 'They'll be gone all night. But, oh, Sam, we can't. Because of Jesus and stuff.'"

Sam stopped himself. "Sorry, Jesus. I don't mean to make fun of you."

"I'm sure he knows what you meant," Blaine said.

"Yeah. So then I'm like..." and he went for Blaine's ear. "Sorry, I know this part's a little weird. She loves it though." Wow. Blaine's ears tasted different than Mercedes's. But also awesome. Maybe Sam was developing an ear fetish? Is that a thing? "Don't tell her I told you that."

"Don't worry."

"And she's like..." and here Sam did a spot-on imitation of Mercedes's low moan. And then Blaine moaned too. "Yeah, exactly like that," Sam said.

"So then I go..." and he straddled Blaine and kissed his neck.

"Sam, are you sure..."

But Sam didn't let him finish his sentence—he pushed his lips into Blaine's and kissed. He didn't think Blaine really wanted him to stop. He could feel Blaine's cock, and it was as hard as his own. "And then she's like, 'Oh my god, Sam, are you hard?' And I'm like, 'Of course I'm hard. Guys get hard when they're making out with their girlfriends'...Or, you know, any time they're making out, I guess." He tried to laugh at this as if it were a joke.

Blaine kissed him and reached out and stroked his dick through his uniform pants, and Sam gasped and shivered. "She didn't do that. Don't do that or you'll make me..."

"Sorry," Blaine said. He kissed him softly on the non-hickey side. "What did she do?"

"She, uh..." Sam was having trouble concentrating. "We were making out, and her hands were going crazy. Like all over me. Well, not _everywhere_." Sam kissed Blaine's face and neck and ears, just like he'd kissed Mercedes.

Blaine ran his hands down Sam's back and asked, "Did she put her hands here?"

"Yes."

Blaine put his hands under Sam's shirt. "Here?"

"Yes. There."

Blaine put his hands down the back of Sam's jeans. "Here?" he whispered in Sam's ear.

Oh god, Blaine's hands were on his ass. "Yes, but, uh...Not that far down," he said. But Blaine didn't move them up right away, and Sam didn't object. He kissed Blaine's collarbone and moved his hands up Blaine's sides toward his chest. "And I'm going like this," he explained between kisses, "and all of a sudden she's like, 'Stop.'"

"What? She told you to stop _then_? I would never tell you to stop _then_. Or...now or whatever."

"I know, right? And I'm like, 'No, don't make me stop, it's just getting good,' but she goes, 'I wanna be on top.' So I'm like, 'All right.'" Sam got off Blaine and sat next to him. "And she climbed on my lap."

Blaine straddled Sam's lap. "Are you totally sure, Sam? We don't have to go any further; I think I get the picture."

"Shut up. You said you wouldn't tell me to stop now."

"I won't."

"Well, except actually I didn't do much else. _She_ was kind of like...sliding back and forth, like rubbing against my dick..." Blaine didn't have any trouble figuring out how to do this. Sam grabbed his ass urged him back and forth, just like he'd done with Mercedes.

And just like Mercedes, Blaine went into a sort of trance. One that didn't last very long. "Sam...Oh god, Sam, I'm gonna come."

"Come, Blaine," Sam whispered in his ear. "I want you to come."

Blaine dug his fingers into Sam's shoulders as his cock shot its load of warm, gooey liquid. Then, depleted, he let his head fall onto Sam's shoulder and he breathed heavily.

After he caught his breath he said, "Jesus, Sam. I don't know why you let me do that, but it was awesome."

"I know, right? You're welcome. But did I get any gratitude from Mercedes? Fuck no. She's all like, 'Oh my god, what have we done? Get out! Get out!'"

"That's so unfair," Blaine said. He pulled Sam's t-shirt off over his head and massaged his shoulders while kissing and licking his chest.

Sam whimpered. "You're really good at that."

"Thanks. Can I try something on you Kurt's never let me try on him? I can't promise I'll be any good."

"What is it?" This was fun and everything, but he didn't think he wanted to get fucked in the ass.

"Get up on the couch."

Sam complied. Blaine kneeled in front of him and unbuttoned Sam's pants. He reached inside the boxers for his cock. Sam moaned. He lifted his butt so Blaine could pull the pants and underwear down.

Blaine stroked it so gently at first. Then more and more firmly. Sam thought he was going to lose his fucking mind. "Blaine..."

"It's so beautiful, Sammy. Can I call you Sammy?"

"Uh huh."

"Would you like to be my first-ever blow job recipient, Sammy? Because I'd really, really like to suck your cock."

"Uh huh. Please."

Blaine moved his tongue slowly up and down the length of it. It seemed to swell even more. Then Blaine put it inside his mouth, just the tip first, then more and more of the shaft. Sam moaned. Blaine's mouth was so warm, so wet...And the suction. Oh god. Soon Sam was pumping his dick uncontrollably in and out of Blaine's mouth. Oh god. _Oh god_. "Oh god!" He filled Blaine's mouth with his sticky come.

Sam didn't want to open his eyes, he never wanted to move. He wanted to sit there with his head against the back of the couch and Blaine's head in his lap forever. But Blaine kissed his knees and reminded him that it would be bad if Finn and Kurt came home and found them like that. So Sam pulled his pants back up, zipped and buttoned them, and lay down on the couch. He saw Blaine put his shorts and underwear in the washing machine and put on a pair of Finn's shorts that he pulled out of the dryer. Blaine leaned down and kissed his forehead, and he drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

"Thanks so much for doing the dishes, boys."

"It's our pleasure, Ms. Hudson," Blaine called from the kitchen. "Thank you for inviting me for dinner. It was delicious. Honestly, I think that was the best hamburger I ever had."

"You have Burt to thank for that—he's the chef and grill master."

"Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Hummel!" Blaine yelled. He wasn't sure how far from the kitchen Kurt's father was. "Your hamburgers were delicious!"

Kurt, who was on rinsing and drying duty, bumped Blaine's hip with his. "You are such a little brownnoser," he whispered. "Oh, and it's our pleasure washing the dishes? Speak for yourself."

"Hey, I have to do whatever I can to make sure your father likes his son's gay boyfriend."

"As opposed to my straight boyfriend?" Kurt squirted him with the sprayer. "Besides, he already likes you, silly."

"I know. Your dad's actually really cool." Blaine looked down at his wet t-shirt. "Unlike some people, thanks to whom I'm now soaked and freezing."

"Freezing? Au contraire. You look really hot in a wet t-shirt, clinging to your chest like that." Kurt bit his lip while Blaine gave him his best sexy look. "Let's get through these dishes and go downstairs."

Blaine was completely in agreement with that suggestion. They finished the rest of the dishes quickly, if not super thoroughly, and raced down to the rec room. Kurt was careful to close the door quietly so as not to advertise where they'd disappeared to. His dad tended to check up on them when he knew they were alone together. He didn't _sneak_ up on them, because he really didn't want to catch them at anything. He wanted to prevent anything from getting started in the first place.

Kurt put a movie in. He didn't even look at what movie it was and neither did Blaine. It was only cover in case of an interruption. He and Blaine sat cross-legged on the couch, facing each other. Blaine took his hands, looked into his eyes, and said, "This is kind of awkward."

Kurt sat up straight, on alert. "What? Do you have something bad to tell me?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Blaine said. He wondered if he should use that opening to confess to messing around with Sam that one night a couple weeks ago. But no, he dismissed the thought right away. What would be the point? It would only hurt Kurt, and besides, he had been drunk at the time and Sam was straight and it's not like it was going to happen again. Sam probably didn't even remember it. "I just meant this is an awkward position. Physically. I can't reach your mouth to kiss you."

Kurt smiled, that smile that never failed to make Blaine's stomach do a tiny flip. "Let's fix that then."

Blaine put one foot on the floor and wrapped his other leg around Kurt. Kurt wrapped both his legs around Blaine. They scooted as close together as they could, which was pretty close. "Can you reach my mouth now?"

Blaine pretended to strain to lean toward him. "Not...sure...if...I can...reach..."

"Shut up, smart ass," Kurt said, pressing his lips to Blaine's. Blaine kissed him back, tenderly at first, then more and more urgently. He pulled Kurt closer, which meant pulling him onto his lap. Kurt squirmed.

When Blaine broke away from Kurt's lips to kiss his neck, Kurt whispered, "You're getting me all wet."

Wait, what? "Do you mean hard?"

"That too, but I meant wet." Blaine looked at him, puzzled. "Your shirt. It's still wet. Why don't you take it off? Or better yet, let me." He put both hands under Blaine's shirt and stroked his chest all over. Then he started lifting the shirt, just a little at a time, and running his tongue over the newly exposed skin. Oh god. Blaine only wished he were working his way down instead of up with his mouth.

Kurt pulled the shirt over Blaine's head, and then he did start working his way down Blaine's chest. Not with his mouth, but his hands were almost as good. When he got to the waistband, he ran his finger back and forth along the top of it. Blaine couldn't tell if he was deliberately teasing him or if he was unsure whether to proceed. He managed to get out the word: "Please." His cock was straining against his tight jeans, and something had to give.

"Please," he said again.

Kurt finally lowered his hand and touched his dick. It was over the jeans, but it still caused Blaine to gasp and clutch Kurt's shoulders. Kurt proceeded to unbutton and unzip the jeans and slide his hands under the waistband of his briefs and...around to his ass.

Okay, well that was good too. Blaine maneuvered Kurt onto his back and lay on top of him. Kurt grabbed and kneaded his ass cheeks as they kissed and writhed together. "Jesus, Kurt. You make me so fucking crazy."

"How crazy?" Kurt asked, giving his butt an extra-hard squeeze.

"What in the hell!?"

Oh shit! Kurt's dad was standing there, apparently on the verge of a heart attack.

"Dad!"

Mr. Hummel backed out of the room and slammed the door shut. "Didn't you hear me say I was coming in?"

"Sorry, Dad. I guess the, uh...movie was too loud."

Blaine scrambled to put his shirt back on and zip his pants back up.

"Kurt, can I talk to you in the hallway for a minute?" his dad said, his voice cracking.

Kurt kissed Blaine quickly and softly on the forehead. "I'm sorry, sweetie," he whispered.

Blaine fell onto the couch and hung his head. Shit, shit, shit. Shit. As expected, Kurt returned a minute later and told him that his dad said Blaine had to leave. Blaine stood up reluctantly and put his head on Kurt's shoulder. "I don't suppose he'd let you come over to my place?" Kurt just scoffed at that one. "Can I see you tomorrow?"

"He said we need to...take a few days off from each other."

"A few days?" Blaine groaned.

"Like a week or two."

"What!?" Blaine put his arms around Kurt's waist. "What am I supposed to do without you for a week or two?"

"Same thing I'm supposed to do without you, I guess." He gave Blaine a quick kiss on the mouth, no tongue. "I might be able to talk him into making it less time, but not if you don't leave right now. He's standing right outside the door, you know."

"I'm going to miss you." Blaine hated the pouty whine in his voice, but he couldn't help it.

"Me too. But you really have to go."

_Me too_? Really, that's all Kurt could say? It was mostly his fault. Shouldn't he be better attuned to his own father's voice? It was almost as if he wanted to get caught so they wouldn't be able to...

Blaine knew he was being unfair, but he couldn't help feeling a little sulky about it. "Fine. I guess I'll see you in a week or two." He stormed out without saying goodbye to Kurt. He did pause outside the rec room door to nod at Kurt's father and mumble, "Good night, Mr. Hummel."

The first day of his exile from Kurt, Blaine cleaned the whole house and cooked dinner for his parents. They were a little suspicious, actually, that he was either covering something up or about to ask for something big. "I'm just trying to show how much I appreciate all you guys do for me," he said. If they didn't buy it, they didn't tell him so.

The second day he tackled the yard work. He mowed the lawn. He whacked the weeds. He trimmed the hedges. He weeded the godamn garden. The last was the worst: the garden had been neglected and there were so many godamn weeds. They were fucking everywhere. Jesus. And he was fucking hot and sweating and he was still out there when it got dark and then the mosquitoes came out and they made a fucking feast of him. Well, let them. "Come and get me, motherfuckers!" he yelled.

"Blaine!" his mother yelled. He hadn't seen her out there, obviously. "Language! Honestly."

"Sorry." Totally not sorry.

"Have you eaten, honey?"

"I'm not hungry. I just want to finish this."

"That's enough for tonight. Go take a shower and I'll fix you something."

The yard work must have done him some good. Or maybe it was the mosquitoes. Whatever it was, the exhaustion or the itchiness, he didn't even have to jerk off in the shower. Hey, maybe he'd get through the one or two weeks after all. He put on some clean pj's and went downstairs.

His mother had set an egg salad sandwich out for him. He didn't think he was hungry until he took the first bite, and then he scarfed down the whole thing in about two minutes. He was looking in the refrigerator to see if there was any more when his mother came in the kitchen and asked him if everything was okay.

"Oh yeah. Just a little hungry still. That egg salad was awesome."

"That's not what I meant. I meant is everything okay in general?"

"Oh. Yeah, everything is fine."

"Everything's okay with Kurt?"

"Kurt's fine," he assured her. "It's his father who has the problem," he added under his breath.

"Are you sure you're all right? Your dad and I can reschedule with Joan and Michael."

"No, don't do that." He had forgotten they were even planning to go see their old college friends, but he was glad they were. The last thing he wanted was to talk to his parents, especially with his mom asking lots of questions about him and Kurt. "I'll be fine. I'm just going to go to sleep, anyway."

"You know we'll be out late."

"I know that, mom." By "late" she meant "not until morning." His parents weren't big drinkers-except when they got together with Mr. and Mrs. Howland. They were never in any condition to drive home after a couple hours over there.

Blaine couldn't sleep. He wished he could at least talk to Kurt. They'd exchanged a few texts, but Kurt hadn't dared to call, the chickenshit. No, that wasn't fair. They shouldn't risk making Burt keep them apart even longer. This just really, really sucked.

Every time he thought he might be about to drift off to sleep he'd find himself thinking about Kurt. Well, that was no surprise. So he'd have to take care of himself for a couple weeks. Big deal. Actually there wasn't even anything new about that. He always had to take care of himself after making out with Kurt. Kurt hadn't even touched his dick yet, not skin on skin. And vice versa.

So after he'd wiggled out of his pajamas, and when he started stroking himself, he had to rely on his imagination rather than his memory. Kurt's hands on his dick, Kurt's mouth on his dick. Sam's dick in his mouth. Wait, shit. _Kurt's_ dick in his mouth. Kurt's dick, which he hadn't even seen or touched yet. Unlike Sam's...

Even with the house to himself he managed to get interrupted mid-jerk. It was the godamn doorbell. After midnight—what the fuck?

Oh, but maybe Kurt had managed to sneak out! That's who it had to be! He jumped out of bed and threw a robe on. "I'm coming!" he yelled. Oh, how he wished that double entendre were about to come true. Maybe...

"Sam!"

"Hey. How's it going?"

"Wow, I haven't seen you since..."

"Yeah, that night we drank that horrible punch. God, we were so fucked up that night. It's all kind of hazy, actually." Sam ran a hand through his hair.

"So, uh...What's up? Do you want to come in, or..."

"Thanks," Sam stepped inside quickly, as if he were afraid Blaine might change his mind. "Dude, were you sleeping? Oh shit, it's really late, isn't it? I work until eleven-thirty and I'm never tired when I get off. Get off work, I mean. So I kind of forget it's late."

"No, it's cool. I wasn't sleeping."

"Really? You look like you just got out of bed. Oh double shit. Shit, I'm sorry!" He leaned closer and whispered, "Is Kurt here?"

"No. I haven't seen him in a couple days, actually."

"Did you guys have a fight?"

"No." Blaine sighed. "His dad caught us...I mean, we weren't even really doing anything. It probably looked bad from his point of view though."

"What point of view was that?"

Blaine blushed to think of it. "I think what he probably got the best view of was my...naked rear end...with his son's hands all over it."

"Oh shit!" Sam doubled over with laughter. "Dude, I'm sorry, but that's hilarious."

"Heh, heh. I guess it's a little funny."

"A little funny? Jesus, I have to sit down." Sam sat on the stairs and laughed and laughed and laughed. He forced himself to stop long enough to whisper, "I'm sorry, are your parents asleep?"

"They're not home."

"Good, because I'm not done." He laughed to the point of sounding literally out of control.

"Dude, it's not _that_ hysterical," Blaine said. He stepped into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, which he handed to Sam. "Did you come over just to laugh at me, or..."

"No. That was an unexpected surprise."

"As opposed to an expected surprise?"

"What? No, I stopped by because I happen to be in possession of a bottle of Jack. I don't wanna just drink it alone. Also, did you call me dude?"

"Dude. If you can call me dude, then I can call you dude. Let's have that bottle. Dude." Sam handed it over. "It's half empty. It looks like you got quite a head start, dude. And now I'm going to stop saying dude."

"It was already like that when I bought it off Puck. Well, almost. I had to have a couple shots to work up the nerve to come over here."

Blaine led Sam into the kitchen, where he put ice in two glasses and then filled them with equal parts Jack and Diet Coke. He passed one of the glasses to Sam and said, "Here. Drink this while I decide which question to ask you first."

Sam finished his drink in four gulps. Blaine finished his in three and started making them a couple more.

"Okay. So first, why did you have to work up nerve to come over here?"

"Well, uh. I just thought that after last time we got drunk together, you might think...I mean, not that I remember it that well. And maybe you don't remember it at all..."

"No, I remember." Blaine studied a mosquito bite on his arm.

"Look, I'm sorry. I can go."

Blaine ignored this and pushed his refilled glass back to him. "Second question. You bought a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels from Puck why?"

"I just happened to run into him at the Lima Bean..." Sam hung his head. "I kinda went there looking for you."

Blaine finished his second drink and started making himself another before he spoke again. "So, did you have another frustrating date with Mercedes?"

"Kinda."

"And so you wanted to...get drunk and...make out with me? Again?"

Sam looked sheepish. "When you put it like that I sound like a giant asshole. I mean, maybe I am." He smiled ruefully. "But it _was_ insanely fun, for me anyway. I mean, I hope it was fun for you too, of course."

Blaine was starting to feel warm and loose from the alcohol. "It was _so_ much fun for me."

"So...?"

Blaine shook his head. "That's not a no," he was quick to explain. "I'm just trying to shake my thoughts back into place." He was silent for a minute, before saying, "We'd have to have rules."

"Yeah. Sure," Sam said eagerly.

"Rule number one. No fucking. I want my first time to be with Kurt."

"Agreed."

"Rule number two...Rule number two," he mused. "You have to actually touch my dick. Not just through clothes. With your hand. Or your mouth, but only if you want to."

"Uh. Sure. I could do that."

"Rule number three."

He stared at Sam, not moving.

"Rule number three?" Sam reminded him.

"This is stupid, Sam. Making up rules? It's premeditated cheating. I can't do that. It's even worse than being, like, swept away in the moment. Way worse, in fact." Blaine downed another drink. How many was that, three? Who cared?

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Of course. I'm sorry."

"I mean, we're good guys, aren't we, Sam?"

"You're a better guy than I am."

"Don't say that, Sam." Blaine punched him playfully (he hoped) on the arm. "You're a great guy. I mean, I know how desperation can make good guys do crazy things."

"You think I'm desperate?"

Blaine was speechless.

"No, you're totally right. I am desperate." He banged his head on the table. "But no. You're not _totally_ , totally right. I mean, I wouldn't normally cheat on Mercedes. She's awesome. And I actually think I'm falling in love with her. If you can believe me. So yeah, the cheating part is from desperation. But wanting to mess around with _you_ isn't out of desperation. It might not have occurred to me that first night except for...you know, being desperate. I just hadn't thought of you that way. But since it _did_ occur...I don't know how to explain this."

Blaine sat down and crossed his legs. He bent forward to scratch a mosquito bite on his ankle, being very careful not to let his robe come open. "Try," he said.

"Well, just that now that I know how awesome it was, I would do it again as much as possible. If it weren't for Mercedes and Kurt, I mean." Sam examined his glass. "Would you? If it weren't for Mercedes and Kurt?"

"Jesus, Sam." Wasn't it obvious? He glanced at Sam's eyes and, while doing so, felt as if Sam could see everything he felt for him. Everything. He looked away—at the floor, at the table. Sam's hands were on the table; he was doodling in the condensation on his glass. Those hands, holy Christ. Kurt's hands were lovely, soft. But Sam's hands looked strong. They looked like the kind of hands you would want kneading your ass while you... _Stop it, Blaine. Just stop it_. But, oh shit, Sam had said he would touch his cock. Just think what those hands could do to his...

He had to find out. He reached over and brushed his fingers against the back of one. Softer than he imagined. He turned it over as if to do a palm reading. But he just wanted to touch it. The palm, the fingers were tougher than Kurt's. Tough, but not exactly rough. They wouldn't scratch him, for example, if they were to run over his... He wondered if they were as strong as they looked. "This is going to sound weird, but hold my hand for a second. Like, how you would hold Mercedes's."

Sam wordlessly interlocked his fingers firmly with Blaine's. They were cold and wet, from the glass. But he didn't let go, and they warmed up quickly against Blaine's. And yeah, they were strong. Sam wasn't applying any particular pressure; if he did, he could easily break Blaine's fingers. Blaine knew he wouldn't hurt him though. Well, not physically.

Blaine glanced at Sam's face again. Not into his eyes—that was too intense—but at his perfect cheekbones, his full lips, his hair falling adorably in front of his eyes. With the hand Sam wasn't holding he reached out to brush it off his forehead. Sam closed his eyes at Blaine's touch. "Sorry..."

"No, don't," Sam said. "Don't apologize."

"Thanks. So, uh. Another drink?" Sam nodded and Blaine poured. "This is the last of the Diet Coke," he remarked. "If we wanna keep drinking after this we'll have to do shots."

"Oh come on. Don't you have any iced tea and Kool-Aid?"

Blaine laughed. He had to rest his head on the table. "I guess I really don't need to drink anymore." This struck him as funny and he laughed harder, causing his head to bang against the table.

"All right," Sam said. "Don't hurt yourself." Scooting his chair closer, he gently adjusted Blaine so his head was on Sam's shoulder instead of the table. God, that was nice. Blaine scooted closer still and nestled his head in the crook of Sam's neck. He could feel his blood pulsing. It was comforting and arousing at the same time.

They stayed like that for a while, not moving or talking. He thought maybe Sam had fallen asleep, but then he felt a hand running through his hair. He got goosebumps—very pleasant goosebumps. He was careful not to shiver or move in any way. He didn't want to startle Sam into stopping.

Sam stopped eventually anyway, but he didn't remove his hand. Blaine brought up something he'd been thinking about. "Sam, I'm confused about something you said earlier."

Sam jumped. "Dude, I thought you fell asleep."

"You said you worked till midnight, right?"

"Yeah. Well, eleven-thirty, but close enough."

"But you also said you just came off a bad date with Mercedes?"

"No, I didn't say I _just_ came off the bad date. Well, I didn't come at all, if you know what I mean. And it wasn't exactly a _bad_ date. It was just...well, what I just said, about how I didn't come at all."

"But when...?"

"I was over at her house before I started working. So like, from noon to two, two-thirty. I've had it bad ever since."

"Schlepping pizzas wasn't stimulating enough to get your mind off Mercedes?"

"Actually..." Sam trailed off and resumed stroking Blaine's hair.

"Actually...?" Blaine tried to lift his head to look at Sam, but Sam held it down.

"Dude, if you want me to tell you, you can't look at me when I do."

Blaine nestled it back into its cozy spot. "Tell me."

"I _was_ thinking about Mercedes. But I was also, you know, thinking about you. Kinda like, I'd try to think only about her, but then I kept thinking...Dude, when you..." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "When you sucked my cock? That was fucking incredible."

Blaine sighed. "It was incredible, wasn't it? I didn't tell you this, but your come tasted...really, really good. I sometimes think about it when I'm trying to think about Kurt." He felt Sam shift in his chair. "Can I ask you something Sam? Are you hard now?"

Sam shrugged. He tried and failed to sound casual when he said, "You can find out if you want."

Blaine looked over. Sam was wearing those ridiculous polyester pants from his job. Why did he look so cute in them? He could see that Sam was indeed hard, but god, he had to touch it, just once. Over the pants. Just once. Oh Christ, even through the polyester he could feel it pulsing. He couldn't let go. With some effort he could keep from stroking it, or going under the pants, but he couldn't make himself let go.

Sam groaned and leaned into the hand on his cock. "You don't think...that maybe what Mercedes and Kurt don't know won't hurt them? Do you?"

Blaine didn't answer. He was ashamed to find himself wondering if he could actually justify it to himself that way. Or any way. _Jesus, Blaine, think._ Where was his drink? Shit, empty. He took a slug from the bottle.

"Sam." He looked into Sam's eyes, or tried to. His focus was a little off. "I want you to realize that after I've said what I'm about to say, I won't know what I'd been thinking when I said it. Understand?"

Silence, followed by a slow head shake. "Not at all."

"Good. Me neither. Here's all I know. I know that I'm not someone who would intentionally cheat on my boyfriend. But I know that you're incredibly hot and I'm incredibly drunk. And I know that if I'm drunk I might be susceptible to being seduced by an incredibly hot friend. So...do you understand now?"

"I think so." Sam stood up. "Whoa...little light-headed." He steadied himself by holding onto the back of Blaine's chair. When he was able to let go, he massaged his shoulders.

"Oh god, those hands..." Blaine blushed to realize he'd said this out loud. Then he blushed more to realize he'd blushed. Luckily Sam couldn't see his face. Those hands, though. They were going under the collar of his robe, moving down his back.

A finger brushed over a mosquito bite. "Right there! Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch!" Sam obeyed. Blaine moaned.

"I'm glad you...enjoy this so much," Sam said. "But I think I need to stop. I'm getting quite a bit of blood back here."

Blaine sighed and leaned his head back on Sam. "I think I just orgasmed."

"What? No, you didn't." Sam reached around to the front of Blaine's robe. "See, it's perfectly dry here, and..." His hand shot under the robe and, oh fuck, grasped his cock. Both boys were perfectly silent and still for a moment. Well, except for the involuntary twitchings of Blaine's dick.

Sam let go just as suddenly as he had grabbed it. "Sorry, dude. I didn't...I didn't know you didn't have any..."

Blaine forced a preemptive chuckle: he didn't want Sam to laugh first. "I guess now you know what I was doing when you rang the doorbell." He stood, turned his back to Sam, and tried to fix his bathrobe. Before he quite had it retied, Sam spun him around and pressed his lips to Blaine's.

Blaine's knees went weak and buckled. He wouldn't be standing at all if his lips weren't so firmly locked with Sam's. Sam put his hands around Blaine's waist-the robe was wide open now-and lifted him. He clung to Sam, legs and arms wrapped tightly around his waist and chest. He wasn't going to fall, but Sam held him just as tightly, one hand caressing his back and the other gripping his ass.

Blaine soon found himself thrusting against Sam's abs and sucking on his neck. Sam disengaged from Blaine's mouth and lifted his head to whisper in his ear, "Don't come yet, baby." Blaine whimpered and stopped thrusting. "Where's your bedroom?"

"Upstairs. What are you gonna...?" Blaine would do anything Sam wanted. "Are you gonna fuck me, Sammy?"

Sam carried him up the stairs without saying a word. He helped Blaine shrug off his robe and lay him face down on the bed. Blaine turned his head to watch him pull his t-shirt off over his head and step out of his pants. He hesitated just a moment before pulling off his boxers. Oh god, that beautiful cock. And it was going to be in him in a second. He squirmed, largely from excitement but also just as much, he realized, from trepidation.

What if it hurt? Weren't you supposed to use lube? Blaine didn't have any lube. How could he not have any lube!? Well, screw it. The ancient Greeks probably didn't have lube either. At least he wasn't totally unprepared. "There's a condom in my top drawer..." Blaine pointed at the dresser.

Sam didn't go to the dresser. He lay down next to Blaine and stroked his hair. "I'm not going to fuck you," he said.

"But-"

"Shh." He straddled Blaine, his cock resting against the ass crack. "I would love to fuck your ass, Blaine. Your ass looks so sweet and so tight. I'd love to slide my cock in there and pound away...But I promised you I wouldn't." He rubbed his dick back and forth between the cheeks. Back and forth, back and forth. He moaned...

"Don't," Blaine said.

Sam stopped moving and sighed. He lay still on Blaine's back and said, "I'm sorry. Just...don't kick me out, okay? I promise I won't touch you if you just let me stay."

"Dude!" Blaine said. "I don't want you to go. I just don't want you to come on my back. All I was going to say was, if you won't let me have your cock in my ass, at least let me have it in my mouth."

"Oh! Oh, yeah, I can live with that!" He rolled off Blaine, and the two lay on their sides, facing each other.

Blaine pushed him onto his back and kissed his cheek. "You're so cute," he said.

"Cute?" Sam protested. Blaine started licking a trail from Sam's collarbone downward.

"Dude, puppies are...mmm..."

Blaine lifted his head from Sam's nipple. "Puppies are what?"

"Dude, shut up and keep doing that."

"Now I'm 'dude' again? You called me 'baby' in the kitchen."

"Baby," Sam whispered. "Please, baby."

Blaine cupped Sam's balls in his hand. He gently licked the pre-come off the tip of his cock. "Is this what you want?"

"Please, baby."

"I like when you say that. Keep saying it while I suck you."

Blaine wrapped his lips around that gorgeous cock and sucked and sucked. "Please baby, please baby," Sam said. "Please please oh oh god oh baby oh god _oh god baby_..." Blaine's head bobbed up and down with Sam's movements. There was so much come when it shot out that some of it escaped Blaine's mouth. While he licked up the stray drops, Sam stroked his hair. "Baby. Baby, that was...oh my god."

"So, uh." Blaine scooted up and snuggled next to Sam, resting his head on his shoulder. Sam put his arm around him and pulled him close. He shouldn't have made Sam come first. He'd either leave or fall asleep. Fall asleep, he hoped. It was nice lying there together, even if it wasn't _exactly_ what he wanted. "So, do you wanna sleep over?"

"Um, sure. You're not going to sleep yet, though. Are you?"

"I just thought..."

"Lay on your side, dude. I mean baby. I'll, like, spoon you." Blaine turned onto his side, and Sam lay pressed up against him. He felt Sam's cock, no longer hard, pushing against his ass again.

Sam ran his hand down Blaine's arm, over his hip, and down the outside of his thigh. When he brought his hand back up along the inside of the thigh, Blaine stopped breathing. He trembled under Sam's touch. Sam touched his dick lightly, tentatively at first. "You're really hard," he said. "And there's all this pre-come. Were you really just gonna go to sleep?"

Blaine gasped for breath. "Please, Sammy."

"Hey, you're right. That is hot. The 'please' thing."

"Please, Sammy, please." Sam wrapped his fist firmly around Blaine's cock and Blaine thrust into it. "Please please please please please please _please!_!" The room spun as his come shot out onto his stomach, the sheets, the back of Sam's hand.

He flipped to his other side so he could look at Sam. Sam withdrew his hand, the one he'd used, and looked at it, looked at a spot of Blaine's come on the back of it.

"The bathroom's through there," Blaine said, pointing. "If you want to get cleaned up."

Sam just kept looking at it, though. "What does it taste like? I mean, you swallowed mine, right? So it couldn't be that gross."

"Taste it if you're curious."

Sam stuck out his tongue cautiously and touched it, just barely, to the back of his hand. "Ew!" He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Blaine heard water running. For kind of a long time, actually. Blaine put his pajama pants on and got back into bed.

Sam came out of the bathroom and looked around on the floor for his clothes. "Dude, I know you invited me to sleep over and I said sure, but I really should get home..."

"There's no way I'm letting you drive home. You can sleep in my brother's room if you'd be more comfortable. Don't worry. He doesn't really live here anymore."

"Yeah, okay. I mean it's not that..." Sam found his boxers and put them on. "It's just that I move around a lot in my sleep..."

"No, yeah, totally. Me too." Sam found his pants and t-shirt and held them but didn't put them on. "Just go back into the bathroom and out the other door. That's Cooper's room."

"Thanks. So, uh." Sam bent down and gave Blaine a quick kiss on the forehead. "Good night, dude."


	3. Chapter 3

Sam was helping his mother load up the car. He would have helped anyway, but maybe not quite so eagerly if he weren't trying to talk her into something. "Mom. Come on. This is my last chance to say good-bye to Mercedes and all my friends from glee club."

"I'm sorry, Sam, but the last thing I'm going to let you do is go to a party when you're still grounded for drinking and staying out all night without calling. I still don't think you have any idea how worried your father and I were. And then you stroll in in the morning, smelling like cheap whisky-"

Actually, Puck had charged him quite a lot for that whisky. Sam didn't mention this in his defense, though. "I know, Mom. I know and I'm so, so sorry. I don't even blame you for grounding me. It's just, this move came up so suddenly, and I realize how great Dad's new job will be for us, but it really will be my last time to see my friends..."

"Sorry. No party. Do I have to remind you you're driving first thing in the morning?"

"See, that's just it. It's not even a party. It's just a little get-together. Mercedes's parents are going to be there the whole time."

Mrs. Evans appeared to be relenting. She had met Mercedes's parents, and she trusted them. She wasn't completely sure she trusted Sam, though, so she called the Jones house. Mrs. Jones confirmed that she or her husband would be there the whole time and would not let things get out of hand.

Sam and Mercedes stood in the kitchen at her house. They had excused themselves to set some snacks out before the others arrived.

"I'm going to miss you, Sam."

"I'll miss you too, Mercedes."

They embraced, Sam resting his chin on Mercedes's head.

"It's great for your dad, though," Mercedes said into his chest. "For your whole family."

"Mm-hmm." Sam wasn't quite sure what Mercedes had said; it was too muffled. But something about dad and family.

"Will you call me?"

Sam understood that. He could also tell that she was crying a little. "Of course I'll call you. I'll call you every day." He rocked back and forth with her, like an awkward seventh-grade slow dance.

"Let's break it up, you two. This doesn't look like putting snacks out to me." This was Mercedes's father. Honestly he scared the crap out of Sam. He was huge, for one thing. Like pro football huge. And he was very protective of his daughter—and very suspicious of his daughter's boyfriend. "Mr. Evans. The chips are on there"—he pointed at the counter—"and the bowls are in there"—he pointed at one of the cupboards.

Sam broke away from Mercedes and obediently opened the cupboard to select a bowl for chips.

"Daddy," Mercedes said, wiping her eyes. "We're just trying to say good-bye. Sam is moving _tomorrow_."

Did Mr. Jones just smile for a second? "I know that, baby. Why do you think we're letting you have this get-together tonight?" He extended a hand to Sam. "Best of luck to you, Mr. Evans."

Sam returned the handshake with equal pressure and forced himself to look the man in the eye. "Thank you, Mr. Jones."

The doorbell rang. "Sounds like some of your guests are here, Cedes. Go greet them. Sam can finish up with the chips." Mercedes left the kitchen and her father called after her, "Make sure they know there is to be absolutely no funny business."

"Kurt, don't get me wrong. I love hanging out with your friends. But you know, we could have the place to ourselves if we didn't go." Finn and Rachel were going to Mercedes's party, and Burt and Carole were out for once.

"It's tempting," Kurt admitted. But he just kept standing there; he didn't sit down next to Blaine on the couch. "But it's my last chance to say good-bye to Sam. You remember him, don't you?"

"Uh...blond guy? On the football team with Finn?"

"Yep, the insanely good-looking one."

"Kurt!" Blaine gasped at him.

"I'm just saying," Kurt said, shrugging. "But don't worry, sweetie. I only have eyes for you." He kissed Blaine on the top of the head.

"Maybe you should go without me," Blaine said. Because: how was he going to deal with Kurt and Sam at the same time? But then he wondered..."Where's he going?"

"His family is moving to Kentucky tomorrow. His dad got a job down there."

Tomorrow? As in the day after tonight? Well, this was good, really. He'd have an easier time acting as if nothing had ever happened if he didn't have to worry about bumping into him. Figuratively speaking. But...he was really never going to see him again?

Kurt sat in Blaine's lap and ran his finger along his jaw bone. "I wouldn't go without you." He nuzzled Blaine's neck. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we should stay in." He started to cover Blaine's forehead and cheeks with light kisses.

Blaine grabbed his head firmly and smashed his lips into Kurt's. Kurt let out a tiny yelp of surprise. He didn't pull away or resist, he let Blaine's tongue in, but he didn't exactly participate in the kiss. He was too overpowered by whatever Blaine's tongue was trying to do in there. Blaine stopped, eventually, and they both had to catch their breath. "What got into you?" Kurt asked.

Maybe he didn't mean it to sound accusatory, but Blaine took it that way. "Nothing," he said.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying I didn't like it." But Kurt got off Blaine's lap and took a step away from as he said this, which kind of confirmed Blaine's original impression that he didn't.

Blaine stood up too. "Let's go say good-bye to Sam, then."

The general consensus was that Mercedes's party kind of sucked. There was no alcohol, for one thing. Actually, that was the main thing. Word got out that Puck had a couple bottles of something in his car, and people were starting to meander over that way. Mercedes got there first. "Puck, if my dad finds you with alcohol he will mess you up."

"Please, Mercedes. If there's one thing I'm not scared of it's parents."

Mercedes called his attention to the muscular six-foot-six black man standing outside the front door, arms crossed, staring directly at them.

"On the other hand..." He walked toward the back yard with Mercedes, being careful not to accidentally touch her. When they were out of her dad's line of vision he said in a low voice, "But seriously. How can you call this a party when there's nothing to drink and your dad is like..."

"I didn't call this a party. I called it a get-together. As in, let's all get together at my place and say good-bye to Sam. I don't know who started using the word _party_."

"Where is the guest of honor, anyway?"

Sam was standing on the patio, talking to Rachel and Finn. Or rather, being talked to by Rachel and, to a lesser extent, Finn. He wasn't really listening that much; he was too busy keeping an eye on Blaine and Kurt's whereabouts. He didn't know if he wanted to see Blaine or if he wanted to avoid him. He did know that he didn't want to be surprised by him—or by Kurt, for that matter.

He guessed that Blaine felt similarly ambivalent, based on the number of times their eyes met while each was looking around for the other. Each time they both looked away, but then furtively looked back. Right now Blaine and Kurt were listening to Brittany talk. Kurt looked engaged in whatever she was saying; Blaine looked confused. When he wasn't giving up any pretense of listening and looking around for Sam, that is.

Oh crap. They were walking toward him now, Kurt in the lead, Blaine being held by the hand and led. Quick, he had to pretend to be taking part in an actual conversation. He cut Rachel off mid-sentence to say, "So, Finn, I guess you can thank me. You'll probably be quarterback again now."

"Dude, don't say that. It's not like I want you to go. Besides, I'll be quarterback with or without you here. Oh hi, Kurt. Blaine. Kurt, tell Sam how much I've been working out this summer."

"It's exhausting just listening to him," Kurt said. "Six a.m. In the summer! Who wakes up at six a.m. in the summer to lift weights?" He looked at Finn and added, "Maybe you can start sleeping in until seven now that your main competition is leaving."

Uncomfortable silence. Everyone looked at Kurt, except Sam and Blaine, who looked at each other.

"Sam, I'm only joking around, of course. I'm sure the football team will miss you as much as glee will." There was a small chorus of _yeah_ s. Rachel hugged Sam first, then Finn and Kurt. Then it was Blaine's turn. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't uncomfortable hugging friends in general. But was Sam a friend? That is, would the others think he thought of Sam as a friend? He panicked and made a move that was sort of half punch in the arm and half one-armed hug. Sam punched him back in the arm...kind of hard, actually.

Mercedes walked over and pulled Sam away. "We are losing people, baby. I think my dad's scaring them off."

"I wonder why," Sam said.

"Did you bring your guitar?"

"You know I did. You picked me up and drove me here with it." Sam had had to leave his car at the motel so his parents could keep packing stuff in it.

"Go get it and play these people a song."

Sam looked around to make sure Mr. Jones wasn't watching. He intentionally didn't look to see whether Blaine was or not. He kissed Mercedes on the neck, on the ear. She sighed. "I'll sing. But it'll be a song for you, not for these guys."

Mercedes gathered everyone around, and Sam played "I Will Remember You." It made Mercedes cry. It made Sam cry too, so he couldn't finish singing the last chorus. He was able to keep playing, though, and Rachel and Kurt took over the singing. Then they both cried.

Puck stepped forward and took Sam's guitar. "People, people! Let's keep it together. Sam, I'll miss you too, bro, but I'm not gonna cry about it. Come on, let's do a random song with no deeper meaning." He thought for a minute and then launched into "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown."

Sam looked around for Mercedes and couldn't find her. Mike said she had gone into the house and looked like she was still crying. He should go to her. But if she was crying she had probably gone to her bedroom. And there was no way he was going to go into her bedroom with her dad around.

When Puck had finished channeling Jim Croce, Sam grabbed Rachel and asked her to go check on Mercedes. Puck started doing Bon Jovi then, and Sam slipped away to the garage. Like Puck said, he needed to keep it together, and to do that he needed a few minutes to himself.

He didn't get them: Blaine was already in the garage. He was crying too.

"Mercedes gives the worst parties," Sam said. "Everyone ends up in tears. Well, except Puck."

"Kurt didn't see you follow me in here, did he?"

"I did not follow you in here, dude. I didn't even know you were here." But Blaine was still crying, so he softened his tone. "I'll leave though."

"No." Blaine walked closer to the door, where Sam was. "Stay a while. I feel like we should talk or something."

"Dude, why _are_ you crying? You're not, like, in love with me or anything, are you?"

"No." Wait, was he? "No. I don't know why I'm crying. It's just contagious, I guess."

"Well, that can be your story for Kurt, anyway."

Blaine dropped his head on Sam's shoulder, then quickly turned and banged it on the wall instead. "I am going to die a virgin," he blurted out.

"No, you're not. But I can put in a good word for you with Kurt if you want. You know, really talk up your skills."

Blaine was speechless.

"Just kidding. Seriously, though, you're not going to die a virgin. You have a boyfriend who's super into you. That's half the battle at least. I have to start completely from scratch."

"You and Mercedes aren't going to try to do the long-distance thing?"

"No. We were barely doing the close-distance thing, really." He leaned his head against Blaine's and didn't immediately turn away. "And how am I going to find a cute gay guy who wants to blow me? Or a girlfriend who does?"

"Are you serious?" Blaine asked. _And did you just call me cute?_ "I can't help you with the girlfriend, but I can tell you exactly how to find a cute gay guy who wants to blow you. All you have to do is find a cute gay guy. Seriously, any one of us would want to blow you. You're insanely good-looking. Kurt's words, by the way ... But please don't let Kurt blow you."

"Don't worry. If he tries, I'll turn him right around and send him over to you."

"The real question is, where am _I_ going to find a cute, mostly straight guy who wants to fool around with a gay guy with a boyfriend?"

" _Mostly_ straight?" Blaine tried to respond but Sam didn't let him. "Okay, fine. Whatever. How can you find a mostly straight guy? ... I think you might be better off concentrating on getting your totally gay boyfriend to let you in his pants."

"Yeah. Of course. That would be way better than cheating, obviously. Uh, no offense."

"No, you're right."

"But every single time I try to...convince him...I just have no idea how to seduce a guy. Even my own boyfriend. Tell me how you seduced me."

Sam actually blushed. "Apparently it's because I'm totally irresistible to every single gay man alive. Maybe even some of the dead ones."

"That is true."

"No, but seriously? I got you drunk."

"Alcohol. Really, that's your advice?"

"Hey, I'm not saying wait till he passes out and then rape him. I'm just saying that a couple drinks might loosen him up a bit. Help him lose some inhibitions. It worked on you."

"Actually, I'd say it worked on _you_. I mean, I could probably be seduced by you sober. You wouldn't be the least bit interested in me without being drunk."

Sam was silent.

"Not that I blame you," Blaine added. "I mean, I had to be drunk to make out with Rachel. God, that was weird."

"No, it's not that. It's just that you're wrong. I'm completely sober right now."

"So? Wait, are you saying you're interested in me? Right now?"

"Very interested." He picked Blaine up and set him on the hood of the silver Lincoln in the garage. He gently pushed Blaine's legs apart and stood between them. "So, could you be seduced by me right now?"

"Yes," Blaine said, before thinking. _What am I doing? My boyfriend is somewhere nearby, possibly looking for me._ But Sam's lips were all over him, and how could he think straight like that? He hooked his legs around Sam's and pulled him closer. He was unbuttoning Sam's shirt, trying to pull him closer still so their cocks could press against each other, when the garage door opened.

"What the hell are you kids doing on my car?"

Sam spun around to see Mercedes's very pissed father.

"Mr. Evans," he said, trying to control his voice, "it is a lucky thing for you that you are leaving this state tomorrow." He actually grabbed Sam by the ear and pulled him away, which really, really hurt. "And you!" He pointed at Blaine. "You had better get off my property this minute."

"Okay. I just need to find my boyfr..."

"I'm sorry. Were you about to say that you have a boyfriend you have to go find?"

Blaine hopped down off the car. "No, sir."

He pulled Sam, still by the ear, out of the garage. "Mr. Jones, I'm really, really sorry. Also, that really hurts. I promise I'll follow you and do whatever you say even if you let go."

Mercedes's father let go of the ear but held Sam roughly by the elbow. It wasn't quite as painful. "Cedes, baby!" he yelled in a sing-songy voice. "Time to break this party up. Say good-bye to your friends."

He pushed Sam against the garage wall. Sam really thought he was about to get the crap beaten out of him. He raised his arms over his head defensively. "Oh, put your arms down, young man. Do you really think I'd strike a child?"

"No, sir."

For someone who wouldn't strike a "child," he sure looked like he might. He towered over Sam, only inches away. "Now here is what's going to happen. You are going to button your damn shirt. You are going to say your good-byes to my daughter and everyone else. Quickly. You are not going to tell her what happened in that garage, and I am not going to tell her what happened in that garage."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me. I'm not doing it for you. My little girl's heart is already breaking because she's losing you, and I don't want to make it any worse. Even if it might help her see that she's lucky to be rid of you."

"Yes, sir. Again, I am so, so sorry."

"Why are you standing here? You have five minutes. I am timing you." Sam started to walk toward the house, but Mr. Jones stopped him. "Mr. Evans!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Your shirt, son. Button your damn shirt."

Sam tried to say his good-byes quickly, but everyone wanted to hug again. And most of them weren't quick huggers. Sam saw Mr. Jones watching him and looking at his watch. "Seriously, guys. I'm only moving a few hours away. I'll probably be, like, visiting every weekend." He saw Mercedes's father shake his head no.

Sam hugged Mercedes. "I'll miss you so much."

"Sam. You and I can say good-bye in private when I drive you home."

Mercedes had said this quietly, but not quietly enough. "You are not driving this young man anywhere, Mercedes."

"What? Daddy, why not?"

"Because I said so."

"But his place is miles from here."

"You! Young man in the bow tie." Blaine, who was trying to get Kurt to leave with him, quickly and quietly, froze. He pointed at himself questioningly. "Yes, you. I don't see anyone else here wearing a bow tie. You and your boyfriend can give Mr. Evans a ride, can't you?"

"Um, yeah. Sure." He looked at Kurt and shrugged, hoping to convey that he had no idea what was up with Mercedes's dad.

Mr. Jones bent down and put one hand on Mercedes's back and one on Sam's. "There, you see? All settled. Now say good-bye, you two." He stepped back, but not very far.

Mercedes grabbed him tight. "I'm sorry about my dad. I don't know what's up with him tonight."

"I'll miss you so much, Mercedes."

"Sam," Mercedes whispered. He had to bend down to hear her. "Will you kiss me good-bye? It looks like we're not going to get a chance to be alone."

"You don't mind that everyone will see?"

"I think a couple of them saw already when you kissed me earlier." Sam didn't remember. "Right before you went to get your guitar? Which, by the way, don't forget."

"Right. I guess I forgot to care that anyone was around."

"Well, now I don't care. And anyway, this way they won't have to ask me why I'm so sad for the rest of the summer."

"Don't be sad, Mercedes."

"Okay. I won't if you won't."

"Deal." He smiled...sadly. He held her tight and kissed her on the lips. He didn't dare do much more than that with her dad watching him. But she was crying again. He couldn't just let her go when she was crying. He tried kissing her tears away, but that only made it worse.

Her dad stepped in and pulled them apart—not too forcefully, but only because he was pulling Mercedes toward himself more than he was pushing Sam away. "I know, baby. It's okay. Like your friend here said, you'll still see each other." But he shot a look at Sam, just in case he had missed the significance of the head shake when Sam said he'd be back.

"Well, that was a strange night," Kurt said as they drove off.

Neither Blaine nor Sam could bring themselves to comment.

"Or maybe it was just me." He turned around and saw that Sam was lying down on the back seat, holding his guitar like a kid would hold a teddy bear. "You really should buckle up back there."

Sam just mumbled, "Fuck my life" and draped his arm across his eyes.

"Sam, did you have access to some alcohol that none of the rest of us knew about?" No response. "Blaine, do you know what's going on?"

"What?" Blaine swerved abruptly to avoid a pothole. "No, sorry."

"You seem really out of it, too."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm just really, really tired for some reason. I think I'll just drop you guys off and then go home and go to bed."

"You don't want to hang out for a while?" Kurt asked.

"No. Sorry. It's just...really late"—it was only a little after ten—"and I'm really, really tired."

No one said anything until Blaine pulled the car into Kurt's driveway and idled the car. Why was everyone just sitting there? Or in Sam's case, lying there? Finally Kurt said, "Aren't you even going to walk me to the door and kiss me good night?"

"Oh! Of course. Sorry." He turned off the car and walked around to open Kurt's door. "Sorry. I'm just really tired."

Kurt glanced in the back seat. "Sam. Have a safe trip. Good luck in Kentucky. Take care." Sam sat up for a handshake. He couldn't bring himself to get out of the car for another hug.

He watched Blaine and Kurt make out at the front door for a minute before he lay back down. It was a shame Kurt didn't realize what else Blaine could be doing for him with that mouth.

Blaine made Sam sit in the front seat when he got back to the car. "I don't want to feel like your chauffer," he said. Also he wanted Sam closer. "So...straight to your motel?"

"My mom's letting me stay out till midnight," Sam said. Shit, now he sounded like a little baby. Plus, he didn't want to let it slip that he'd gotten grounded last time he and Blaine had... "I mean she's not expecting me till midnight. So we could hang out somewhere. If you want."

Blaine tried to think of somewhere they could go. His parents were home, so that was out. He knew where the McKinley kids parked to make out, but someone could recognize them. He remembered a place the Dalton boys sometimes took their dates. True, he could be recognized there too, possibly by someone who knew who Kurt was and that this wasn't him. But the Dalton kids weren't as likely to be around in the summer, and there was more privacy there than at the McKinley kids' place. And even if someone did see and recognize him, how likely would it really be to get back to Kurt? It was the best he could come up with. Shit, he'd really have to drive fast if he wanted to leave any time for "hanging out." "Seriously, dude," he said to Sam. "Buckle up."

What was he doing? He didn't have to do this. He could stop the car, say, "Sorry. You're awesome but I love Kurt and this is wrong," and turn back toward the motel. Because this...there was no way he could justify what he was about to do as a heat-of-the-moment impulse. Much less a drunken one.

"Cop ahead," Sam said. Blaine slammed on the brakes and passed the cop car at sixty miles per hour: technically over the speed limit, but not enough to make the cop take notice. Damn, that was close, though. Okay, he couldn't think this through while driving eighty-five down a dark country road. He'd think it through when they got there. And they'd be able to talk then.

But who was he kidding? They didn't talk when they got there. They pulled into a secluded spot—that was the great thing about this place: lots of secluded spots—and climbed into the back seat and started ripping each other's clothes off.

Well, not ripping. They were both rational enough to realize that having to explain torn clothes to their parents would not be fun. And besides, undressing each other slowly and deliberately was kind of hot.

Sam, in particular, was surprised by how turned on he was by seeing Blaine's chest. Yeah, he knew his hard-on was largely in anticipation of what was to come. But still. It was the first time he'd had any reaction, really, to a guy's chest. No boobs or anything.

They stripped to their underwear. Sam was in blue and white striped boxers, or maybe they were gray and white. There wasn't enough light to make out colors. Luckily there was enough light to see how beautiful Sam was in just boxers. Blaine was in red, silky briefs that Sam couldn't keep his hands off or out of.

He lay down on the backseat again, pulling Blaine on top of him and tossing his guitar in the front. They writhed against and ground into each other. Blaine was kissing and licking and sucking and biting Sam all over his neck and chest. He wanted to leave marks.

Sam had a firm grasp on Blaine's ass, under the briefs. He was helping to guide his back and forth movements, to find the perfect rhythm. When Blaine didn't need his help anymore, his hands wandered some. His fingers brushed against the balls, causing Blaine to moan and bite down hard on his shoulder. He got the same response—only with an even harder bite, one that drew blood—when he rested his finger on Blaine's hole and applied just a little bit of pressure.

"God, Sammy. I really want you to fuck me. I know what I said before, but I really, really wanna feel your cock inside me."

Sam considered it, imagined it. Christ, it would be sweet. But he said, "Baby. You don't want your first time to be in the back seat of a car with some mostly straight guy you'll probably never see again."

Blaine whimpered. Sam was right, but...Jesus, why did he have to be right? "Will you at least keep doing what you're doing with your fingers back there?" Sam did. He slowly put one finger in, then a second. God, when Blaine squirmed like that on him...

"Sammy? Is this how you want me to come?" He sounded like he was close.

Sam withdrew his fingers and scooted out from under Blaine. "No. Not like that." He pulled Blaine's briefs off, slowly, pausing to kiss and lick his inner thighs. "There's something you've done for me, twice now, that's so awesome. I really want you to experience it."

"You don't have to Sammy. I was there, I experienced it."

"But not from the other side. Dude...baby. Trust me, this is not something you want to say no to."

"Yeah, what am I saying? Yes. Of course, yes."

Sam stroked his cock gently, putting his mouth near it but not quite on it. "I mean, I don't know if I'll be any good at it."

Blaine arched his back in anticipation. "I don't see how you could be bad at it. Unless you bite me. Please don't bite me."

"I won't bite you, baby." Still caressing, mouth still hovering just above. "Just..."

"What, Sammy?"

"Would you mind not coming in my mouth? I mean, could you give me a little warning before you shoot your load?"

"I promise. I swear. You can bite me if I don't."

Sam smiled. "I still won't bite you." Still almost there, still hovering.

"Sammy? Please? Will you now? Please?"

Sam started with a tentative lick, just the tip of his tongue running up the length of Blaine's dick. It didn't taste that weird. And the way Blaine sucked in air and practically spasmed...that was hot. There was a bit of pre-come on the head. Maybe it wouldn't taste as gross as the real stuff? Maybe this time he wouldn't mind? No, he couldn't do it. He wiped it off with his hand.

It took him a while to work his way up to putting the whole thing in his mouth. Or as much as would fit anyway. He didn't want to attempt to deep throat on his first time. Wait, first time? Was he expecting to do this again some time?

Part of the reason he hesitated was that it still felt kind of weird. And he was completely sober, so he felt everything more clearly. But the other part of the reason he went so slowly was that teasing Blaine was actually a huge turn-on. He could tell how much he wanted it, how much he needed it. He squirmed and arched and said, "Please, Sammy, please."

When he did finally get most of Blaine's cock in his mouth, when he really started sucking, he knew Blaine wouldn't last much longer. Sure enough, he soon heard, "Sammy. Sammy. I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." He had just enough warning that he didn't get any come in his mouth. He did get some on his face and neck, however.

He smiled at Blaine. "What do you think? Could this be the new look?" He meant to be funny, but Blaine looked horrified.

"I am so sorry, Sam. I tried to give you enough warning but then it happened so fast."

"No, it's cool. I'm totally cleaning it up with _your_ shirt, though." Blaine willingly handed Sam his shirt, and Sam wiped the come off himself. "So? I know I'm not very skilled, but it was pretty awesome, right?"

"So awesome," Blaine agreed. His eyes were closed and his whole body was slack, as if he were completely muscleless. "I could die right now and it would be fine."

"It wouldn't be fine for me if you died right now," Sam reminded him. Not very subtle, but then, was subtlety really necessary at this point?

"Riiiight. But see, I'm all content and sleepy now. I'm sure you'll understand if I'd rather take a nap."

"I know you're joking, dude, but it's not nice. It's not cool at all."

"See, and now you're back to calling me dude, so you must not be in the mood anymore."

"I so _am_ in the mood, baby. Feel." He took Blaine's hand and placed it on his cock.

Blaine brushed it gently with just his fingertips. "Yeah, it is hard," he said. He gradually applied more and more pressure until he knew he could make Sam come with a couple flicks of the wrist. If he wanted to make him come like that. "And you've got some leakage up here." He wiped some pre-come off with his finger, then slowly sucked it off, keeping his eyes on Sam's. "But..."

"So not nice, baby. Come on, be nice to Sammy."

"I don't think you want it enough, Sammy."

"I want it so bad, baby. Please take my cock in your mouth. Please, baby. I can't take it much longer."

This was true. Blaine had barely gotten his mouth around Sam's dick when the thrusting began. He really didn't even do anything other than hold his mouth still and suck. Sam came in waves. Every time Blaine thought he was done—every time Sam himself thought he was done—another gush came.

When he was done, when they were both really sure, Blaine rested his chin on Sam's face and smiled at him. "Kiss me?" he asked.

"Sure," Sam said. "As soon as you wipe my spunk off your mouth." He reached for the shirt he had cleaned up with a few minutes ago, Blaine's shirt.

Before he could reach it, though, Blaine was ostentatiously licking it off. "Mmm. Sam goo."

"Oh, Jesus, dude. I guess I _might_ find that hot if I didn't just come."

The boys got dressed, trying to avoid elbowing or kneeing each other. Blaine was kind of grossed out now by his Blaine-goo-encrusted shirt. If it had been Sam goo maybe he wouldn't have minded.

"Sammy? If I can call you that still?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you really say, 'Come on, be nice to Sammy'?"

"Absolutely not. I will deny that until my dying day."

"I am going to miss you, Sammy."

"I'll miss you too, Blaine. If I ever come back to Lima, we are totally doing this again."


End file.
